


Some Like a Rough Grind

by drabbleandfluff



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drabbleandfluff/pseuds/drabbleandfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya finds a new coffee house that fulfills his caffeine addiction... it just so happens, the owner is an even better addiction to indulge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Like a Rough Grind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for au_bingo on the lj community, Prompt-- other: mundane
> 
> originally written August 2010

 

 

After placing his order with the young man at the register, Byakuya slowly walked over to the other end of the counter.  Under the pretense of perusing the adjacent newspaper stand for something to read, Byakuya instead, covertly watched the redheaded barista create his new addiction.

More in truth, Byakuya watched _his_ new addiction prepare and produce his _other_ new addiction.

Having just found this café a few weeks ago, Byakuya had quickly become a regular patron. Although he rarely ate anything despite the various pasteries and baked products available each morning, the French pressed coffee here was without a doubt some of the best he’d ever come across.

It didn’t hurt at all, that the coffee came with a devastatingly handsome man.   

The redhead behind the counter was tall and broad-shouldered, and moved with a lazy, efficient grace. He smiled graciously enough to customers and the few fellow co-workers on shift with him, yet Byakuya could see a quiet brooding, an underlying weightiness in his amber gaze when no one else was looking.

Surprising even himself, Byakuya realized he wanted to find out what was on the man’s mind. What made this otherwise extroverted man (he had to be, right? With the bright hair, stark tattoos and loud voice)…  what made him melancholy for the span of a few hidden seconds.

 

In the mean time, he simply watched the barista scald the milk for another customer’s cappuccino.

Large hands practically engulfed the short stainless steel pitcher, moving it up and down… _up and down_ … circling around the steam spigot… slowly… unhurriedly… movements meant to warm the milk without burning it…

Without looking, the other hand reached out to grab at a ‘Tall’ paper cup (reinforced with a cardboard collar), and brought it under the espresso machine to combine both hot liquids together to make the cappuccino ordered.

Heated by the coffee, Byakuya couldn’t help but wonder how hot that hand would feel grasped around his wrist… moving over the skin of his neck… _wrapped around his cock…_

A small upwards tug pulled at the corners of his mouth.  He was allowing his thoughts to become indulgent today.

Well, it _had_ been an excellent morning for him so far.   It isn’t every day that your publisher phones to inform you that your first book has just cracked the national Top Ten in Fiction Book sales.   Especially one whose protagonist utilizes his cat to seduce his neighbor… his _male_ neighbor.  Byakuya allowed the smile to reach his eyes.  Oh.Yes. He was permitted a little decadence today.

Having already decided to spend some leisure time here this morning, Byakuya found an empty table in the corner of the shop that looked out onto the street.  It was still early morning, the fog hadn’t burnt off completely yet.  The slight chill and mist outside lent to a warm, cozy inside, filled with the heady aroma of dark roasted coffee, hot cream, lightly scented cinnamon and baked fruit.  The deep cherry-wood walls, the large mirrors and etched glass fixtures, and the marble countertops all worked together to give the tiny shop an Old-World ambiance.  The mis-matched tables and chairs added to it’s unique flair.  
  
Byakuya sat down and placed the manuscript he’d had tucked under his arm, onto the table.  His publisher had mailed him a rough draft of a screenplay a colleague of his was hoping would be picked up for production. Having glimpsed the tell-tale orange envelope sitting in his mailbox, Byakuya had picked it up prior to walking over here.  

Apparently _Kyoraku_ ’s latest literary endeavor centered upon a military man forced into battle against a powerful enemy.  His character's only fault, had been in befriending the wrong people.  The story showcased the life of a man who, had he met his 'enemy' at a different point in his life, would have developed a deep friendship with his antagonist instead.  'A heartrending story amongst the adrenaline and agony of war'.

Byakuya opened up the manila envelope, and pulled out the heavy manuscript.  Also inside was an ultrafine-line black ink felt pen (his publisher knew better than to send something he wanted proofed by Byakuya without it), and the eyeglass case that he had tucked inside earlier. Nimble fingers retrieved square wire-rimmed glasses, and slid them onto his nose.

It suddenly occurred to Byakuya that he hadn’t picked up his order and was just about to get up… when it appeared at his elbow. Attached to the cup was the tall redhead.

“Thank you,” slightly surprised, Byakuya acknowledged, with a slight tip to his head, “I was just about to…”

“Ah, no worries!” a jovial tenor replied, a broad smile lighting up the angular face, “…you looked a bit… engaged, so I thought it might’ve slipped your mind.  I also thought you might like to try a complimentary sampler of our fresh breads and muffins,” the redhead continued, placing a small plate of three aesthetically grouped products together on the table.

The morning sun used that exact opportunity to break through the clouds and fog, and the resultant warm orange glow seemed to set the barista’s hair afire.  At that moment too, Byakuya noted that the man’s eyes reflected crimson instead of brown, and underneath the bandana wrapped around his head, _more_ black ink decorated his slightly tanned skin.  Details rarely escaped his notice, and Byakuya was a curious man.

He also realized that he must have been staring at this man quite openly, and in a rare show of embarrassment, he dropped his gaze, fidgeting with his glasses in reflex.

“Thank you, again”             

Byakuya missed the widening of the redhead’s smile.

“No problem.”

Byakuya’s eyes followed the retreating redhead as he walked back behind the counter, the black apron tied around his waist did wondrous things to accentuate his lean waist and tight glutes.  Lecherously, Byakuya smirked to himself, and eventually dropped his eyes back down to the manuscript before the redhead turned around again.

_Ah. That’s right. Coffee._  
  
He depressed the plunger on the glass carafe, and inhaled the wonderfully deep, earthy aroma of rich, Sumatran coffee beans.  His mouth practically watered.  He poured himself a cup, broke off a piece of what seemed to be freshly baked 7-grain bread from the sampler plate, and got back to the manuscript.

 

The shop filled; customers ebbed and flowed.  Byakuya, who was a multi-tasker (practically by right of birth), couldn’t help but grasp onto tiny snippets of conversation filtering in and around and passing his table.  

The young lady sitting at the table behind him, for example, was speaking into her cellular phone, complaining to someone on the other end about how ‘oblivious’ some guy had to be, not to know how she felt about him.

_… take the hint, sweetheart._ Byakuya thought with a smirk. _  
_

Or the couple walking past his table-- the one woman asking her man if he really liked her new hairstyle. The boyfriend hadn’t even glanced at the purple coif before answering in the affirmative.

_Liar._         
  
Byakuya continued with his work, sharp eyes following the flow of the story laid out on the page.  His notes in the margin were sparse, as the story was compelling and certainly complete without need for further clarifications in grammar or subject matter.  Byakuya’s remarks merely addressed an outsider’s opinions looking in; triggering motivation and character nuance. Effortlessly, he wrote out his remarks in kanji-- the ink soaking into the thin pulp of paper, the flowing trails of which somehow reminded him of another canvas of black ink…

“.. can I top you?”

The question filtered into his subconscious like all the other little noises.

“… that all depends,“ Byakuya murmured quietly to himself, still jotting notes into the margin, “…are you _man_ enough to take me?”

“Umm… sorry?”

Byakuya froze.  And looked up.  _Had he said those words out loud?_

The redhead was back again, standing at his table with a fresh carafe of coffee and a look on his face Byakuya could reasonably term _adorable confusion_ … that is, if he ever used those words together.  Which he did not.

Instead, he feigned ignorance.

“Did you say something?” he asked innocently, focusing upon the employee’s eyes, and willing himself not to follow the sleek black lines on the man’s neck zigzag-ing down into his starched, collared white dress shirt.

You see, Byakuya also had a _thing_ for dress shirts. It was all those buttons. And the starch. Byakuya wanted to push his nose into that shadowy space between the tanned skin and the crisp cotton; and inhale… _deeply_.

“Oh,” the redhead smiled, brushing off the awkwardness, “I just came over to see if I could top you off on the coffee,” he replied, gesturing with a newly pressed carafe.

“Yes, that would be appreciated," Byakuya replied, "Thank you.”

The redhead continued to stand there for an added moment after refreshing Byakuya’s cup, as if wanting so say something more. Byakuya tilted his head a fraction in question.

The redhead eyed the empty plate, lips quirking up into a pleased grin “-- so, you enjoyed the sampler, I see.”

Byakuya nodded, “I do not normally eat much for breakfast, but these were quite delicious… and a good compliment to the coffee.”  He hesitated a second, as if the next words were a deep, dark confession-- “… the banana macadamia nut muffin especially.”

While speaking, Byakuya’s hand had drifted over the plate again, picking up crumbs with the pads of his fingers, “… please thank the baker for me,” his soft smooth baritone swelled with appreciation.   Without thinking about it, he brought his fingers to his mouth, and slipped them in, one by one to suck the crumbs off.

“I think you already have,” the redhead replied, needing to clear his throat.

“Oh?”

The large man slid into the seat across from Byakuya, the warm smile breaking into a toothy grin, “Abarai Renji, owner and _baker_ , of this establishment.”

Normally, anyone invading his space without invitation automatically rubbed Byakuya the wrong way.  And this man was certainly not his usual type… wait a minute… did he even have a type?  Having a ‘type’ usually implied that you had a preference… hell, Byakuya couldn’t even remember the last time he had actually noticed anyone.

And yet here he was, patronizing this specific café for this specific employee… Well.  At least now-- for the owner.  

This… Renji… was undeniably different.  Byakuya felt a distinct warming of the air between them-- the unmistakable static between human beings that drew one to another.  He was masculine and (dare he think it?) _charismatic_ ; at least Byakuya knew better than to think all the customers were here just for the coffee and pastries alone. He was well aware of all the flirting being thrown in the direction of this redhead.

Renji had that energy about him-- earthy... solid.  Like you could depend on him never going away.  
  
Byakuya had to shake his head at these inane (insane?) thoughts.  Where had they come from?  He almost snorted at his own absurdity.  Abarai Renji was the owner and operator of this cafe, and he was being sociable to a customer.  Neither of which pointed toward him being anything more than just friendly to Byakuya.

“Kuchiki Byakuya,” he replied, with an inclination of his head.  “Coffee drinker, and… freeloader; it appears,” a hint of dry amusement in his voice.

“Nonsense!  I’m the one that brought those over, to fatten you up...” Renji joked affably, gesturing to the empty plate.

“I have stopped by a few times these past weeks,” Byakuya openly admitted, “and the crowd appears lively. How long have you been open for business?”   _Wait... was he making_ idle _conversation?_ Kuchiki Byakuya never made idle conversation. _  
_

“I’ve noticed,” Renji replied happily, leaning back in his chair. “This baby’s been open for three months now.  We’ve been slowly increasing our clientele.  A lot of our customers are repeats, which is the most satisfying-- it makes me feel like we’re doing something right.”  

“We?”

“My partner and I...”  

Although his outward appearance hadn’t changed in the slightest, Byakuya felt a tightening in his gut.

Renji’s eyes suddenly widened comically, “oh wait, that came out sounding all wrong,” he chuckled, correcting himself, “my _business_ partner and I.”

“Ah.”  Byakuya drank the last bit of coffee in his mug. He felt a little bit _lighter_ than he did two seconds ago, although he really had no reason to.  He glanced at his watch, an uncommon sinking feeling squeezed at his chest, “Unfortunately, it appears I also need to get going.”

He placed the manuscript and pen back into the orange manila envelope.  “Thank you for the breakfast, again,” he said as he stood to leave.

Renji stood with him, taking a step forward toward Byakuya so that the brunet had to look up slightly.

 “We’re open until ten at night,” Renji’s voice was quiet, almost… _intimate_ , “You should stop by sometime, maybe for an after dinner espresso?”

Byakuya paused.  Was he asking what Byakuya thought he was asking? Was Renji just looking to increase his business?  

Either way, today was a day for self-indulgence, he had already decided.

“Perhaps I shall take you up on that offer, Abarai Renji,” Byakuya drawled as he walked out, in a tone that could almost suggest… _flirting_. As if he’d do such a thing. 

He missed the answering warmth in crimson eyes.

 

 

 


End file.
